the air.
“Bingo,” I said, as we pushed forth to do our bit in the first doubles, “I wonder what young Thos will be up to this afternoon, with the eye of authority no longer on him?”
“Eh?” said Bingo, absently. Already the tennis look had come into his face, and his eye was glazed. He swung his racket and snorted a little.
“I don’t see him anywhere,” I said.
“You don’t what?”
“See him.”
“Who?”
“Young Thos.”
“What about him?”
I let it go.
The only consolation I had in the black period of the opening of the tourney was the fact that the Right Hon. had taken a seat among the